Steve stands in the living room. The place looks like a bomb's hit it, which, given the house's history, isn't actually out of the realm of possibility. In fact, three bombs hit it and their names were Charlie, Danny, and Grace. The corner of his mouth curls into a smile and he makes no move to start tidying it up, which he normally would have done right away. He usually hates when anything's out of order.
He thinks back to the last few hours. Building sand castles, playing tag in the water, ensuring Danny got good and sandy and then laughing together as he ranted about it and called his children traitors for teaming up with Uncle Steve, building forts in the living room when the rain came. He thinks back to the first time Charlie had called him Uncle Steve. No doubt it was because Gracie did; maybe he'd always been Uncle Steve, even before Danny knew he was his son. The first time Steve had heard it, though, it did things to his insides, the same things he'd felt when Gracie had said it the first time, or the first time Danny had said 'I hate you'.
The rumble of the Camaro's engine pulls him from his memories. A car door slamming. A rant that sounds like it started even before Danny had shut the engine off, the words indistinct until the front door opens.
"—asshole cut me off on the highway. My fucking KIDS were in the car, Steven. Do you know— Oh, good, you haven't started tidying up."
"You didn't have to come back to help, Danno."
"Course I did. You think I'm an animal? You're the animal in this relationship."
Steve's insides do funny things again.
"Relationship?"
"Yes, Steven, relationship. 'An emotional or other connection between people.'* I hate you, ergo, we have a relationship." Steve grins. "Anyway, back to the matter at hand. Sorry we didn't stick around to clean up, but when I saw that we'd lost track of time, I knew I had to get the kids back ASAP or Rachel would have a fit."
Danny starts to move toward the mess of blankets and pillows and cushions, but Steve grabs his arm to stop him. Danny turns around and sees his friend's goofy grin. He grows a grin to match, swirling a finger of his free hand in the general direction of Steve's face.
"What's this? I like it."
"Oh yeah? You like my face?"
"I like GoofySmileFace, yeah."
"I like it, too."
"What brought it on? And how do I make sure it never leaves?"
Steve searches Danny's face, trying to figure out if he's reading his friend right. He's pretty good at reading people, has to be in his lines of work. He's pretty sure he's right.
"I'm happy. For the first time, I realized I'm happy. I realized I have this amazing family who loves me unconditionally."
"Yeah you do." Danny's eyes flick from Steve's to Steve's mouth and back to Steve's eyes. "You're happy, huh?"
"Yeah."
Danny's quiet for a moment. He licks his lips. "Like, completely happy?"
"Almost completely happy." Steve pulls Danny closer. He knows he not reading this wrong. That he's actually been reading this right for months – maybe years – but he's finally ready to go for it. He's not afraid. He knows that even if he is wrong, everything will be okay and the world won't end. It's a weird feeling, but he's grabbing onto it with both hands. Actually, he's grabbing on to Danny with both hands, literally.
"We really doing this?" Danny asks.
"Yeah, if you want to."
"Babe, I've wanted to for years." He caresses Steve's cheek, runs his fingers across Steve's jaw.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But you weren't ready."
"I wasn't," he confirms. "But I am now."
"Good."
Their lips meet for the first time. All those things in Steve's insides settle. Goofy looks morph, change, as they give into the thing they've both been fighting for too long. At least the place is covered in cushions and blankets...
A/N: This was written as a challenge by Cubit2 on . In a PM thread stemming from a comment on my story "The Opportunity", she said I should steps out of my writing comfort zone (Depressed!Steve) and write happy Steve. We have this.
* source: definition of 'relationship' quoted from dictionary dot com